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I take the cards from her and throw them aside. “I’ve got a present for you. A little piece of advice. Trust no one, not even your own family. The only person you can rely on is yourself.”
“There’s no chance I’ll ever trust you again.”
I smile, revealing pointed canines. “Especially not me.”
My head dips toward hers like I’m going to kiss her. At the last second, I snap my teeth together, and she jumps. “Happy birthday, kitten.”
4
Cassius
Ten at fucking night, I haven’t had the rest of my dinner and I haven’t been promised a wife. What the hell am I still doing at the mayor’s house?
I take a swig of the whisky I helped myself to after Chiara stormed out of the dining room like a brat. The swimming pool glows blue-white and the garden is studded with lights. I’ve spotted half a dozen staff. Everything in this house is expensive. It’s only acceptable to raise a family like this if they understand that this privilege comes at a cost, and the cost is doing what you’re fucking told.
A figure in white walks along the edge of the pool, a sparkling tiara nestled in her golden hair. The chiffon clings to her slender body. I watch her, the taste of the whisky lingering in my mouth. Chiara will look good on my arm as I walk into one of my clubs. She’ll be delicious spread out on my bed. I love a small woman that I can completely engulf with my size, and her delicate beauty will look even better when her face is streaked with tears.
But perhaps this would be easier if she were plain. Beautiful women who know they’re beautiful are a pain in the fucking ass. As my eyes follow her, though, I can’t be sorry that Chiara Romano is utterly delectable. I put my whisky down and straighten my tie. She’ll just require more correction.
I stand at the far end of the pool with my hands in my trouser pockets. Chiara’s so lost in thought that she almost walks right into my chest. She pulls up short with a gasp.
Recovering herself, she asks, “Have you got something for me, too?”
I don’t like her tone. It’s bordering on sassy. “Why? Do you suppose you’ve earned a present from me?”
Chiara shrugs, her face a picture of unhappiness. “It’s my birthday. Salvatore gave me this.” She touches the necklace at her throat that’s heavy with glistening stones.
Of course he gave her diamonds. Lavish gifts and vicious threats, that’s his style.
“Vinicius gave me advice.”
I laugh softly. “Let me guess. Trust no one? Definitely don’t trust him. You can tell he’s lying because his lips are moving.”
Speaking of lips, Chiara’s are swollen. Who’s been kissing her, Salvatore again? No, probably Vinicius as part of his games.
“Why do you all want me, anyway?”
She’s not my wife yet. I wonder how best to play this. Perhaps after her chat with Vinicius she’d respond best to honesty. “Your father is a powerful man. He’s useful to us.”
Chiara flinches. “But I don’t want to marry any of you.”
Maybe not, but a woman in her position doesn’t get to choose her husband. She doesn’t get the luxury of a love match. She’ll perform her duty and say thank you for the privilege of serving her family and her husband.
My daughters, when I have them, will be raised to understand this from birth. This seventeen-year-old girl needs to be taught a lesson.
I reach out and stroke my thumb over her cheek. “What a night you’ve had. This must be so hard for you.”
She looks up in surprise, and her face softens. “Um, yes. It’s been a strange day.”
I go to an outdoor five-seater sofa nestled between some palm trees and sit down. “The others will screw with you for fun. I don’t do that.”
“That’s reassuring. I like to know where I stand.”
She gazes at me boldly, without even calling meMr. Ferragamoorsir. Such lack of discipline. A proper mafia daughter wouldn’t dare behave this way around the man she’s hoping to marry. Her mother at least seems to know her place.
I pat the sofa cushion next to me. “Come here. I don’t bite.”
“I want to go inside.”
